


The Silence in Dancing with Death

by imitationicarus



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU where A lives, AU where B isn't a murderer, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Light Novel: Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, Wammy House talks, exploration of Beyond Birthday, hints of suicide, little Matt because I think he's cute, not romance heavy, some hints of B x A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitationicarus/pseuds/imitationicarus
Summary: A doesn't die when his numbers say he will, and the wheels of Beyond Birthday's fate begin to turn. How different will he be? Will he continue to work with Wammy House, and ultimately L, or will he stray from his savior's sacred path again? An exploration of BB if his circumstances had been different.
Relationships: B/A - Relationship
Kudos: 6





	The Silence in Dancing with Death

B knew A would die tonight. He could see it in the ragged numbers above his shorter friend's head.

B had stared at that number the moment they met, just two children scraped from the underbelly of the world and given a purpose—to be a copy. But A’s being rejected the transformation, rejected being wiped clean.

Rejected being alive.

“Hey, B?” A asked, softly. His long dark hair curled around his face like petals protecting the pollen center. He hid in B’s room, probably to escape another proctored test to prove A was still worthy of being copy number one. “I think I’m going to go to bed early.”

“It’s only seven o’clock,” B replied. “We can stay up a little longer.”

His version of _just don’t go._

A carded his fingers through his hair. In the dark room, with only a computer screen as their light, his hair looked like a dark river in the moonlight. “I just feel really tired today, B.”

His version of _I can’t take this anymore._

And what could B do? He knew death, stood by its side, danced with it. Death would come, even if he closed the door.

“Sleep well, then,” B said.

The numbers above A’s head mocked him.

 _You won’t see him in the morning,_ it said. _Because L will kill him._

_L._

A man he never met. A _deity_ he was supposed to emulate.

But B’s growing anger evaporated when A gave a soft smile, touched his shoulder, and stood. “You too, B.”

A left. Lost to the swirl of death and decay that followed B wherever he went.

B laid his head down, but he did not sleep. He waited for the inevitable.

And he felt _nothing_.

* * *

And the inevitable came at 6 am with a soft knock at the door. B was waiting, his shoulders hunched like he could curl up on himself.

“What do you want?” B mumbled.

But he knew. He always knew.

The door opened a crack, then an inch. B expected Roger’s aging face to appear in the gap, with a tight frown and hard words.

But it wasn’t Roger.

“B… can I come in for a while…?” Black hair hung unbrushed and wild in the door frame, and A tilted his head to hide his familiar gray eyes. “I need to talk…”

B’s gaze strayed to the numbers on his head, the numbers he knew spelled death.

But they were different now.

B bolted out of bed before he could think, snatching his best friend by his shirt and dragging him inside the room to hug him _._ It startled A, but he quickly melted into the touch when B buried his face into A’s neck.

“You’re alive…” B mumbled, grasping and feeling and dancing with death in his arms.

B always seemed trapped in a looping song.

But for once, the music was quiet.

“I couldn’t do it,” A whispered.

And the wheels of fate turned.

* * *

The main room of the Wammy House was devoid of love, affection, and humanity. It was white and bland, with only one round carpet to contrast the lifelessness of the place. Normally, the children were rounded up for a monthly talk with L.

But instead of a computer screen, B sat in a chair, one leg propped up so he could rest his chin on his knee. The new generation of copies stared up at him.

For once, B was nervous.

 _Why the hell do they have to stare at me like that?_ B gnawed on the inside of his cheek. _It’s weird._

B could crawl across the ground on all fours in a crowded subway. But teaching on the other hand…

“I think we can start now, B.” A called from the back of the room.

They were older now, more mature. A’s face was still gentle and soft, and it was the push B needed to get over his irrational fear of speaking in front of _children_.

“I have a case that I believe is unsolvable.” B kicked his leg out, and he slouched in the chair. “And I want to see if you can solve it.”

“Huh? Then what’s even the point?” A blond child snorted. “If it’s unsolvable, then how do you expect _us_ to solve it?”

 _Mello._ B always had a soft spot for his spontaneity.

“I said I _believed_ it was unsolvable. But if you trust everything I say without thought, then you’ll always be taken advantage of.”

At that, a fury developed in Mello’s eyes, but the blood rushing to his face betrayed his embarrassment.

He reminded B so much of himself.

B bent and rested his arms on his knees. “If you agree with something, you must have sufficient reason to agree with it. If you disagree, you must have sufficient reason to disagree with it.”

Mello turned his head away. _I know you got the point._

“Now, to the case.” B tapped his knee. “Three murders. At the first murder, there were four dolls found nailed to the wall, and the number decreased with each murder. Every crime scene had the murder room locked from the inside. What do you believe will happen now?”

Only one boy didn’t pay attention with an awe that made B sick to his stomach. Instead, he focused on his toy, a robot with movable joints as if _it_ were godly in its own right.

 _Near._ A paid special attention to him. A was good with kids like that. Good with the way life stripped humanity away. A tended to put things back together.

 _Like he did with me_.

Near was the only one to speak. “It’s an obvious answer. There will be a fourth murder.”

“Perhaps. What’s your reasoning?”

 _There has to be sufficient reason, or I’ll mercilessly slaughter your theory, Near._ B stifled a small smile. _Even in front of A._

The boy lowered his toy long enough to grab a lock of white hair and twist it around his finger. “You said the first murder had four dolls, and the number went down. Methodical killers wouldn’t stop at number two. But after the fourth murder, they can’t prove their M.O. with the doll, so they won’t kill again.”

Each year B watched them, L’s copies just got better and better.

But not good enough. _Yet._

B stood over to a window. “You’re correct. There will likely be another murder. But why four specifically? For a serial killer, the number seems odd.”

“Well, you didn’t give us many details,” Mello grumbled. “Are there any connections between them?”

B decided to humor him. He went into specific detail about each victim, the way they were found, the layout of their homes. It was such an elaborate puzzle he had spent hours devising to challenge the bright minds that already surpassed the first part of the alphabet.

“Are you sure you’re not just giving us the details of some case L is working on?” Mello raised an eyebrow. “Is he expecting us to solve it?”

B couldn’t hide his grin this time. “Not at all. I just want to see how perceptive you are at solving a case that could even stump him.”

Now, all the eyes on him said one thing: _C_ _hallenge accepted._

Some of the children broke into groups to discuss their ideas. Others stared at the blank walls. Near continued to play with his toys as if B never existed, and Mello grabbed the wrist of his new friend and spoke to him with passion B almost envied.

A walked over to B and stared out to the empty courtyard of the orphanage.

“It’s already been a year since Matt joined us, hasn’t it?” A said.

“Guess so.” B lost track of time these days.

He was only reminded of it when he glanced at A and saw the numbers above his head.

But it still wasn’t time.

And at that reassurance, the days escaped B again.

_Time doesn’t matter as long as he’s here._

“And Mello is helping him break out of his shell.” A lightly bumped his shoulder. “Reminds me of a certain someone.”

B rolled his eyes. “We are nothing alike.”

“You both have very obsessive likes. I heard it's impossible to drag him away from video games.”

“Are you making fun of my jam?”

A stifled a laugh into his hand. “Not at all.”

They were failed copies of the same man. But A had something B attached himself to—a sense of being _human._

_What would have happened if I didn’t have that?_

B pivoted toward the kids. “Time’s up. Final questions. Who was the murderer, and what was the motive of the murder?”

“Huh?” Mello said. “I thought we were solving the locked room puzzle! How are we supposed to know who the killer or the motive?”

“You have to get into a killer’s head to fully understand a case,” B explained. “It’s more than just a puzzle. In this, the motive is crucial to solving the case.”

But B was sure, given time, Mello would have thought the case through to completion. _He was already pretty close._

Near sat his robot down and stared intently into its yellow eyes. But he didn’t speak. He, like Mello, was stumped by the final assignment.

_Dammit, maybe that was too hard. They are kids after all._

“Well—” B started, but one lone hand lifted among the group.

It belonged to a boy smaller than the average size, with big round eyes hidden behind even bigger goggles.

B bit his lip to hide a faint smile. “Matt. Think you can answer it?”

“Um, yeah…” Matt grabbed a handful of his shirt nervously. It wasn’t until Mello patted his shoulder that he continued to speak. “Well, I think that…”

His eyes shifted everywhere, but B kept a level gaze with him. Finally, their eyes met, and Matt raised his finger to point at B.

“I think the murderer was you, and... the motive was to challenge someone to see who could win.”

B didn’t miss a beat. “And why?”

_If I have to slaughter his theory…_

Matt seemed to straighten his back a little more, the weight of nervousness finally evaporating. “Because the locked room. The dolls would have allowed a triangulation to let a string to lock the door, because there wouldn’t be enough movement to turn it from the outside any other way. And if there is only one doll, it won’t work. So, the killer would have to be the final victim. And if he’s the final victim, he’s challenging someone. Making an impossible case. There’s only one person you would challenge with a case that hard.”

A grin melted B’s expression, and he slowly clapped his hands.

_Unlike A and I, they have a chance._

And something about that felt good.

The numbers of all the children danced around him, like ring-around-the-rosy with death. But for once, his Shinigami eyes looked to the child beneath the numbers.

“Matt,” B said. “You have just solved your first case.”

* * *

Years bled away again—how long had B ignored time since _that_ night? It seemed to be slipping through his fingers now.

But one case in his adulthood brought it back—Kira. Mysterious murders of criminals with no true cause. It was at the point where L couldn’t hide anymore if he intended to challenge the murderer once and for all.

B relayed the ultimate plan to A one night as they laid in bed together, skirting the issue they had danced with as teenagers in the Wammy House.

_What would I be like if I didn’t have him at my side?_

The possible answers troubled B.

But those thoughts evaporated when A shot up in bed.

“B, you can’t be serious,” A said.

There was pain in his gray eyes, like stones sinking to the bottom of the river. It made B’s heart _ache_.

“I am serious,” B responded, and A threw the covers off before he could say anymore.

“You and I saw that broadcast.” A got out of bed. “He killed a criminal, just like that! You can’t do this, B! He’s obviously after L. You shouldn’t get involved!”

B slid out of bed and grabbed A by the waist.

But A shoved him away. “Tell him you aren’t taking the case. Tell him, B!”

“We have to stop Kira.” B grabbed him again, firmly. “We can’t let a mass murderer like him do whatever the hell he wants.”

“If L’s so confident he can solve it, why can’t he do it alone.” Tears formed in A’s eyes, hot tears, and B tried his best to hold in his own.

Whatever A felt, he felt. They were two halves of a whole. He was life. B was death.

“There’s a chance he could fail,” B admitted.

_That we could fail._

“Then why do it?” A whispered.

B pressed his forehead to A’s and thought of the only thing he could. “Because if L fails, it will be _their_ turn. And I intend to give them a fighting chance against this psycho.”

 _Near. Mello. Matt._ The generation of copies that might not really be copies after all, but true successors to L—a concept B almost turned his back on.

B held A tightly, just as he held him the night A was _supposed_ to die. The wheel of fate kept turning.

And B just kept dancing.

* * *

The university ceremony was stuffy and boring. B barely remembered the speech he gave or the words the other stuffy, boring men delivered. All he cared about was the boy sitting just mere inches from him, his attention on the podium.

B rocked on his heels, biting his thumb.

_I wish I had jam right now._

“Light Yagami?” B asked.

But he knew. He _always_ knew.

Light barely seemed disturbed by his awkward pale appearance and his pitch-black clothes.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied, feathers unruffled.

B wanted to _pluck those feathers._

“I’m Rue Ryuzaki.” B leaned forward more.

Light Yagami had no numbers above his head. B hid the curve of his smirk behind his thumb. _Interesting._

“Yes, I heard,” Light replied.

“Light, do you mind if I tell you a secret? If you promise not to tell anyone, at least. It’s about Kira.”

For a moment, Light seemed to contemplate it. But that was playing right into B’s hand. Of course, _Kira_ wanted to know what he had to say. He was like the children, now teenagers, who always tried to uncover B’s secrets.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Light said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

_Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh._

But B couldn’t help it. A small, broken chuckle escaped. “I just wanted to let you know that I am L.”

And the wheel of fate just kept turning and turning and turning.

Dancing to the silent tune of death.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you like to see more of B posing as L to catch Kira?
> 
> I recently rewatched Death Note, and I decided to binge read Los Angeles BB Murder Cases in one night, so this is the result. I always headcannoned with my friend that A's death caused Beyond to become the murderer he was in the book. Because that doesn't happen, Beyond is still referred to as B in the entire fanfic. 
> 
> And I wanted to give Matt a little chance to shine. He's considered number three after all, but there's not enough focus on his own intelligence because he's overshadowed by Near and Mello.
> 
> (A is designed to resembled Naomi. If the canon circumstances had happened, Naomi looking like A is the reason why B guided her along as much as he did. Just a lil fun fact.)


End file.
